Somewhere I Have Never Traveled
by lsquaredeast
Summary: Speculation for Season 7B's premiere, 'Severance,' based on vague spoilers. Peggy/Ted.


**Somewhere I Have Never Traveled**

"You've never traveled abroad?"

Peggy looked across the small, circular table at her date. They had made it through a round of cocktails and the salad course without a misstep. Clark's affability made his appearance – tall, broad shouldered, movie-star handsome – less daunting. His enthusiasm and the bottle of red wine on the table inspired Peggy to speak candidly and do away with the shawl she had worn around her shoulders; its absence made her seemingly modest dress revealing and chic. "No, I haven't," she answered his question. "I almost went to Hawaii once. But I guess that doesn't count because it's in the United States. And it never happened," she added, glancing sideways.

"If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go?"

Her teeth pinched her bottom lip. Peggy glanced down at three pieces of wilted lettuce on her plate. "Paris," she told him, lifting her head to meet his gaze. "Definitely Paris."

x

The bill was settled and Peggy drained the remainder of her merlot before standing from her seat. She swept her tongue along her front teeth, conscious of stains and errant pieces of food. Her date with Clark was a surprising success and she didn't want to ruin it with the embarrassment of food caught between purple teeth.

"Did you drive here?" Peggy asked, followed by a wince; he had already mentioned, more than once, that he took the train from Midtown. She quickly told him, "I like this neighborhood. It's… lively."

"It's a nice night. We could walk around for a while?"

She nodded with an eager smile. He pointed his elbow toward her and Peggy hooked her arm around Clark's. "Have you been? To Paris?" she asked.

"Twice. It's beautiful."

"Twice? I suppose it's not so remarkable when you've been more than once," she noted.

Clark shook his head. "Not true. It's always remarkable."

Peggy planted her feet on the sidewalk.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No. No, I was just thinking…"

"What?" Clark prompted.

She tensed every muscle in her body, her shoulders rising up to her ears. Peggy's words were lodged in her throat, constricting her breath, and her chest ached with the desire to be spontaneous. The desire to take a departure from herself. Years of being a worker bee, and years of chasing the wrong man and the wrong romance, weighed on her. She knew the kind of people who could drop everything for an impulsive weekend with a lover, and their abandon was foreign to her. "Let's go," she declared, turning toward him, gripping the lapel of his suit jacket. "Let's go to Paris!"

Clark stared at her for a beat, and Peggy feared she had ruined their evening and their future. He smiled and asked, "You're not joking?"

"No," she whispered, tipping her head back to look up at him, her expression hopeful.

"I'm not in court until next Tuesday. I could go. I could if you're serious."

"I'm serious," she told him, rising on the tips of her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth.

Clark reached up and framed her face with his hands. He captured Peggy's lips in a slow, sweet kiss.

She wound her arm around his shoulders, rising on the tips of her toes. The sounds of a busy evening – the clap of shoes on the sidewalk, the blare of car horns – became muted. As far as Peggy was concerned, she and Clark were the only two people on the street and she was the kind of woman who could get swept off her feet and dive into a passionate, impulsive love affair.

x

Her dress was unzipped, the fabric loose around her back. Peggy was packing and changing her clothes at the same time. She folded a skirt into her suitcase and let her dress pool around her ankles, kicking it to the side. She carried three shirts from her closet to her luggage and then reached around her back, unhooking the clasp on her bra. Her eyes darted around the room, in search of her favorite pair of shoes, when she landed on an overstuffed folder for the Hanes account.

New business.

"Shit." Peggy sat on the edge of her bed, wearing only her nylons and underwear. She had to put together a team for Hanes. She had to have enough to present to the executives before the week was over. She closed her eyes and calculated – even if she only spent two days in Paris, it didn't leave her enough time, and who spends only two days in Paris? "Shit," she repeated, kicking her dress where it had been discarded on the floor.

x

It was easier to put her discarded bra and dress on again than piece together an outfit, and taking from the clothes she'd packed in the suitcase only made Peggy feel like more of a fool. She made her way to the office in wrinkled attire fit for a romantic dinner, and nylons with a snag across her right knee. She intended to dive into the work for Hanes while Clark waited at Grand Central. She didn't call him. What would she say?

_I'm not the kind of woman who can be unpredictable and drop everything for a man. _

_A long time ago I passed on the opportunity to have a personal life, and now I am doomed to be married to my job._

x

The lamp cast a murky spotlight on the mess of papers and art that crowded Peggy's desk. She tugged a sheet of paper from the typewriter and added it to the clutter. She let out a frustrated grunt, bowing her head to rub the crick in her neck. She reached for the top desk drawer and felt inside for a soft pack of cigarettes. Her hand moved around the drawer, and not feeling anything but loose rubber bands and thumbtacks and scraps of paper and violet candies, she shoved it closed and pushed her chair back.

Peggy wandered into the dark hallway. She knew where everyone kept their cigarettes and headed to Don's office. She jiggled the doorknob and when it didn't budge she moved onto the next.

"I think we're the only people here."

Her heart clenched in her chest. She steadied her breath and turned to face Ted. "I was looking for cigarettes."

"What brings you here so late?" His eyes grazed her from head to toe – from limp hair losing its curl to the low neckline of her dress to high heeled shoes that elongated her legs. Ted swallowed.

"I was…"

He took a step forward. "You look dressed for a date," he observed.

Peggy glared at him for a long, uncomfortable beat. She turned and her shoes clapped loudly against the floor.

x

She lifted her feet onto the desk and crossed her ankles. Peggy studied her nylons, staring at the snag that was like a scar across her knee. It was impossible to write copy about nylons and undergarments and socks when all she could think about was the Eiffel Tower and a man waiting at Grand Central.

It wasn't Clark she imagined holding a suitcase and helping her onto the train and then sitting beside her on the plane and then kissing her in the City of Lights.

"Look what I found," Ted said from the doorway.

Peggy dropped her feet to the floor and shoved the hem of her dress closer to her knees, holding it there. She looked at two loose cigarettes on the palm of his hand. Her barely detectable smile was an invitation, and he crossed the floor and held his hand toward her. She felt a spark of heat when the tips of her fingers touched his palm as she picked up both cigarettes.

"You mind?" he asked, pointing to the work on her desk.

She shook her head and reached for a lighter.

Ted picked up a random sample of the work and carried it to the sofa.

Peggy stood and watched his face as he scanned the pages. She blew a stream of smoke from the corner of her mouth and said, "I was on a date."

He winced.

"I almost went to Paris."

Ted was quiet for a long while before he looked up at her. He nearly said something snide – _I see it went well_ – but didn't have to vocalize it; his eyes and the silence spoke volumes.

"But I'm not that kind of girl," Peggy told him, and not for the first time.

He set the papers down and stood. "You've wanted to go for a long time."

She took a long drag from her cigarette.

"I'm glad you didn't go," Ted said.

Peggy's eyes narrowed.

"Not because you shouldn't… I want to be there when you go."

She was unsteady and locked her knees together. "You have to stop saying things like that, Ted."

He moved toward her. He lifted his hand, his fingers hovering near her mouth. Ted's thumb traced a path along the corner of her mouth and the slope of her bottom lip – wiping a phantom smear of lipstick or food or wine.

Peggy abruptly turned her head and forced his hand to drop away. "I have to work."

Ted stood under the doorway. "It looks good. It's a good start," he told her.

She heard the soft tap of his shoes on the floor, the sound descending into silence. The cigarette pinched between two fingers burned to a stub, and Peggy winced when the flame seared her skin.


End file.
